Five Times Jūshirō Ukitake Woke Up In Bed With Retsu Unohana
by Red Dahlia
Summary: Jūshirō's most vivid memories of Retsu happened in bed. Spoilers for the Soul Society Arc. Ukitake x Unohana, background Shunsui x Nanao. One-shot.


**Contains: **Spoilers for the Soul Society Arc, mild adult content, descriptions of illness.

**Notes: **This is a gift fic for **akai_miko **for participating every day in the Week of Love giveaway at the shunsui_nanao Livejournal community this summer. Thanks for your contribution! I'm sorry this took me so long, I hope you enjoy it! ^_^

This story was written before chapter 520, and is not completely in line with the revelation about Unohana in that chapter.

* * *

The first time Jūshirō Ukitake woke up in bed with Retsu Unohana was in his third year at the Shinigami Academy.

The curriculum was four years long in those days. Despite some pressure from other shinigami working in the field, Yamamoto-sensei had refused absolutely to pass Jūshirō and Kyōraku out of the Academy early. "Everything that I'm teaching you is important. None of it should be skipped recklessly." Yamamoto-sensei scowled as he spoke.

"I'm sure you're right, Yama-jii," Kyōraku said, shrugging. "More time to chase the girls," he added when he and Jūshirō walked away from Yamamoto's narrowed eyes.

Jūshirō did not chase girls; he listened intently to his lessons, studying diligently. Kyōraku did not study much at all, but their grades remained similarly high—Jūshirō's poor health and Kyōraku's nearly preternatural sharpness in battle exercises evened things out.

It was one of those battle exercises that sent Jūshirō into bed that first time—in one moment, he was standing on a practice field across from a worried second year student, and the next he was spitting blood, black lightning striking across his vision. He wavered on his feet, determined not to drop his swords.

On a lush island in his soul, surrounded by rollicking oceans and buffeted by a cheerfully fierce storm, he'd met his zanpakutō's spirits for the first time and promised to use his swords honorably. Dropping his zanpakutō in the dirt would not violate his promise, but it would sully his swords, and he refused to do that.

The pull of unconsciousness was too strong, a black riptide dragging him under. He fell but never hit the ground. Yamamoto-sensei had grabbed him roughly, shouting for a healer as Jūshirō passed out.

He woke to find a huge creature with one eye staring him down, and fell back into the black, certain he was dreaming.

When he woke again his vision was clear, the terrible tightness of his lungs eased. There was still some pain and discomfort but there nearly always was that. He'd learned to tolerate the limits of his body, even as he tried to stretch them.

The ceiling was unfamiliar, but the firmness of the bed and the smell of unscented soap mixed with tangy blood he recognized. The hospital. He sighed, closing his eyes. This was the third time he'd been here in the last two months and everything was just as he'd remembered, except for the heavy dampness of his clothes and the feeling of hands unfastening his hakama.

He sat up abruptly, leaning on his elbows. A young woman with dark hair and tied-up sleeves was straddling his knees, struggling to unfasten the wet stays of his Academy uniform. "Hello?" he asked, and she looked up at him.

"You're awake. That's good. How do you feel?" She smiled, her delicate features lighting up. Her hands stilled on his waist as she waited for his response.

"I'm fine. I just had a bad moment at the practice field, Unohana-sempai." Retsu Unohana—she'd become a shinigami before the Academy was founded by Yamamoto-sensei. She'd come to teach the first year students the basics of healing kidō when Jūshirō entered the Academy, and she'd figured heavily into his dreams since then. "Do you remember me?" he asked, and could have kicked himself for it.

"I remember you, Ukitake-kun." Her hands resumed their work on his uniform ties. Her face slipped back into serenity.

Of course she remembered him—he was in and out of the hospital almost on a weekly basis. He'd never been personally attended by her before, but she must have heard of his illness and weakness. He repressed the urge to squirm, miserable and wet.

"You were very good in the kidō sessions I taught. You asked excellent questions, Ukitake-kun." She smiled at him, her eyes lifting to meet his, and he smiled back, bright and wide.

Retsu Unohana remembered him, and not for spitting up blood. She knew who he was, and she'd smiled at him. Her small hands had unfastened the ties on his hakama. Retsu Unohana was undressing him. _Wait, what?_

"Can you lift your hips for me, Ukitake-kun?"

He obliged, lifting his hips as she tugged his pants down his body, shimmying back on the narrow bed until she stepped off the bed with his sopping pants, dropping them on the floor. "Unohana-sempai?"

"Yes?" She removed his tabi, letting them fall to the floor with a plop.

"Why am I wet?" He wanted to know why she was undressing him, but since the answer was almost certainly related to the wetness of his clothes and probably not related to an overwhelming desire on her part to ravish him in his hospital bed, he stuck to the wet question.

_Retsu Unohana ravishing him in a hospital bed_. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to banish the image before he developed a humiliating erection. The cold dampness of his fundoshi worked in his favor, but his mind wouldn't stop dreaming. _Retsu Unohana in a nurse's uniform, short and tight, straddling him in bed. _ No, no—_Yamamoto-sensei in a nurse's uniform_. He made an audible gulp of horror, his brow furrowed.

"Ukitake-kun? Are you in pain?" She climbed back onto the narrow, high bed, balancing over him. The position was awkward, but the bed was too high to undress him from a standing position without turning him on his sides and stomach, something that he knew from experience was uncomfortable or painful, depending on the severity of his latest attack.

He could feel the warmth of her thighs on his bare legs through the thin layer of her hakama. "No, I'm fine." He smiled, hoping he didn't look bizarre.

She nodded, one eyebrow raised. "My apologies for the wetness—it's a side effect of being transported in Minazuki. I have to get you out of these clothes; it's not good for your health."

"Minazuki?" He remembered the monster with one eye. "Minazuki is that creature?"

Her lips pressed together, her hands pausing on his sash before continuing to untie it. "Minazuki is my zanpakutō," she said stiffly. "Her saliva has healing properties."

He wondered what kind of inner world would produce a creature like that, but thought it better not to know. Once he'd confided in Kyōraku about the lush island in his soul, and Kyōraku had returned his confidence, telling Jūshirō about his own inner world. Jūshirō had recoiled from him, disturbed by the demented circus inside Kyōraku's soul. He'd tried to hide his reaction, but it was too late; Kyōraku had seen the horror in his eyes.

If it bothered Kyōraku, he didn't show it beyond one flash of resignation in his face. Instead he turned the subject easily to the girls in their kidō class. But Jūshirō still regretted the incident—it was obvious to him now that everyone's inner world was different and deeply personal. He'd never asked anyone about the inside of their soul again. Whatever sort of place Minazuki resided in, he wouldn't ask Unohana and risk offending her.

"I'm sorry. I just didn't remember what happened clearly. She's your zanpakutō? I am feeling much better now than I did at the practice field, you have an impressive zanpakutō ability."

Her head tipped up; she looked mollified by his apology. "I am working on some techniques to harness the healing power without so many side effects." She opened his tops, working his arms out of the sleeves. "Can you sit up a bit more?"

He sat up, his face close to hers. Her eyelashes were dark and thick, her skin bright with health. Jūshirō wondered what she saw when she looked at him. He hoped there wasn't dried blood on his chin.

Her arms wrapped around him as she removed his clothes. She smelled like soap and rosewater. He breathed in deeply. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine that this intimate undressing was happening in another place lit with candles, that plush bedding was beneath them instead of a plastic-coated sheet, that she was close to him because she wanted to be, not because it was her job.

"Unohana-sempai," he murmured when she dropped his soaked clothes off the bed.

She turned back to him. "Yes?" Her cheeks pinked faintly when she met his gaze before her eyelids swooped down to hide her eyes. He felt a moment of wonderment—Retsu Unohana felt something when they were close, too. He was shallow enough to hope it was attraction and romantic enough to hope that it was more, unlikely though it might be.

She shifted off him, moving across the room to bring a towel over from a shelf. "If you wouldn't mind, Ukitake-kun?" she asked, her voice briskly professional.

He stared at the towel for a moment before accepting it. She turned her back to him as he removed the wet fundoshi and set it with the rest of his clothes. He wrapped the towel around his waist and perched on the edge of the bed, where it was dry.

She turned around when he stilled. "If I help you, can you stand so that the bed can be changed?"

"Yes, I can do that."

She nodded and opened the door of the room, calling someone in. A nurse came in with fresh linens in her hands. Unohana helped Jūshirō stand, slowly and carefully, acting as a support. "This will only take a moment," she said. Her body was warm and surprisingly strong; he tried not to put much weight on her, but she shifted until he was leaning against her more fully.

He let his hands rest on her back softly. Her hair stirred slightly with his breathing; lustrous and short, it barely reached her ears. A practical style for a shinigami, but he thought she would be even lovelier if she wore her hair long.

The bed changed quickly, the nurse took away the pile of wet clothes. Unohana picked up a clean robe that the nurse had left on the bed. She dressed him, his attempts to help lengthening the awkward effort. "Here, Ukitake-kun, let me—shift your elbow—I'll tie it in front."

She helped him back into bed, accepting the damp towel from him and setting it on the floor. "Thank you," he said.

Unohana nodded. Her hands lit with diagnostic kidō; he recognized it from his many trips to the hospital. "I'll bring you some medicinal tea. You should rest."

"Unohana-sempai?" He wanted to stop her from leaving and spoke without thinking.

"Yes, Ukitake-kun?"

"How long are you going to be on medical duty rotation?" All shinigami rotated through the various duty rosters regularly. After she left medical duty, he'd probably not see her for years, perhaps. His best chance at spending time with the woman of his dreams was to be hospitalized. Kyōraku would laugh at that, and then he would try to help send Jūshirō to the emergency room.

"I'm not going to rotate off of medical duty. Yamamoto-dono believes that constant rotation reduces the effectiveness of our troops, more than it relieves them from challenging duties. He wanted a few volunteers to test his theory that specializing is more valuable, and I have volunteered."

"Interesting. Do you like medical duty? You have an obvious aptitude."

She sat down on the edge of the bed. "I'm good at it, and I feel that what I'm doing here really matters. Healing is at the heart of shinigami success on the frontlines. Returning people to their optimal health as soon as possible keeps our forces strong. More than that—"

"Please go on, Unohana-sempai." She fascinated him. Her eyes were alive with passion for her subject, her face and voice animated.

"I want to heal people. As many people as I can." She looked down at her hands.

"That's admirable," he said, and meant it.

"No, it's foolish. Triage is a critical part of battlefield medicine. Admitting that people can't always be saved is important and necessary. Wanting to heal everyone—" She shook her head.

He covered her hands with one of his hands. Bold, given the way she looked up in surprise, but he wanted her to listen to him, to feel his sincerity. "It's not foolish to want to do everything that you can. Having that as your guiding light is powerful. And if you fall short of that ideal sometimes, that doesn't make it worthless. Sometimes our bodies fall us, our resources don't stretch enough, and our abilities can't overcome obstacles. But doing as much as you can and striving to do more—that's beautiful. That's powerful."

Her eyes widened, softened. Her hand curled around his. "I understand why they wanted to pull you out of the Academy early. You're naturally inspiring, Ukitake-kun. You'll be an excellent leader of shinigami."

He blinked rapidly at her praise, trying not to blush. "Oh, that's—but I really believe what I said before."

Her lips turned up. "I know. That's why it's inspiring. Many have called me a fool lately, although not to my face, for staying on medical duty and not seeking the glory of the battlefield. I'm superior in battle, but that's not who I want to be."

"Support is important. We can only be as strong as our supports allow us to be." He sat up and leaned closer to her.

The serenity that she seemed to strive for was not present on her face—instead she was luminous with warmth and intensity. She was more beautiful than before like this, and Jūshirō's chest ached for reasons that had nothing to do with his illness.

The moment stretched, both of them still. Her eyes were full of mysteries and depths that he wanted to explore. Her full lips parted slightly. He shifted closer, only a few breaths separating her mouth from his. He wanted to kiss her more than he'd wanted anything before.

He didn't dare.

"Thank you," she said finally, in the barest whisper, and then she pulled away from him, floating to the door. "I'll bring your medicinal tea." She disappeared, the door clicking shut behind her.

Jūshirō leaned back against the pillows, shaky. What had happened? There was something—a connection—that he'd never felt before. It was wonderful and more than a little scary. He brushed his hand over his face, stunned.

It was more than an hour before she returned. Her serene expression was firmly in place, and never wavered as she gave him medicine, ran a healing kidō over his chest, and wrote notes in his chart. It was as if that magical moment had never happened.

He didn't say anything about it to her, because what could he say? Nothing had happened. Yet he couldn't stop thinking about it, and about her. Retsu Unohana was seriously distracting.

In the park after he was out of the hospital, Jūshirō told Kyōraku what had happened with Unohana. Kyōraku considered the matter for all of ten seconds. "You're attracted to each other."

"Yes, but I don't think that's all it was."

Kyōraku scratched his chin, considering. "You want to sleep with her?"

Jūshirō sighed. "Obviously, but more than that—I want to know her. I want to be close to her."

"Hmm." He studied Jūshirō, his eyes narrowed. "You're in love with her," he proclaimed, falling back onto the grass for a nap.

Jūshirō sputtered. "That's preposterous, I hardly know her."

"You're in love with her."

"Don't just say outrageous things like that and go to sleep."

Kyōraku opened one eye. "Ukitake, it's obvious. You're in love with her. Accept it now or don't, either way is fine. But I think you should buy me a drink when you realize that I'm right."

"You're not right. And weren't we going to study now?" He tapped his kidō book, annoyed.

"Start without me, I'll catch up later." Kyōraku draped an arm over his eyes. "It's so bright."

"Then get a hat, if you're going to nap in the middle of the day. I'm going to the library." Full of righteous energy, he stood and strode away.

"You're in love with her," Kyōraku called after him.

"I am not," he said firmly to no one in particular.

He held to that belief for several years. He graduated from the Academy, becoming a shinigami of some regard. Whenever he met Retsu Unohana, she was serene and he was polite, and they never spoke on anything deeper than his health and the weather.

* * *

And then there was war. A brilliant strategist rose in Hueco Mundo and armies of Hollows marched against Soul Society. Yamamoto-sensei said these events happened in cycles, foreseeable but unpreventable.

The battles raged for weeks and Jūshirō fought to his limits and beyond. He stood back to back with Kyōraku, proud of his friend's strength, even as strong distaste and pale horror for Kyōraku's methods and powers niggled at his mind. They pushed back the enemy, but it would only be temporary. Jūshirō's body struggled and finally failed as the enemy fell away, regrouping.

The second time Jūshirō woke up in bed with Retsu Unohana was during this slight reprieve from war.

His eyes opened to a jagged and holey straw roof; it was a building in the Rukongai, where the main front of the war was staged. From the quiet he judged it to be removed from the front lines. He listened to his own ragged breathing for a moment, wincing slightly—he sounded bad, but it was just exhaustion exacerbating his condition—it was painful, but not enough to take him out of the war.

Below his own gasping breaths he heard even, smooth breathing. He propped himself up on his elbows to look around. A woman was next to him on the floor, her head resting against his thigh, as if she'd been on her knees beside him and collapsed from exhaustion. He couldn't see her face clearly—it was partially covered by her hair—but he would have recognized her under any circumstances. Retsu Unohana. Had she come to heal him and fallen ill herself?

"Unohana-san?" He touched her shoulder gently.

She shot up, coming awake immediately. She brushed her hair out of her face, tying it back quickly. "Ukitake-san. How do you feel? You collapsed on the battlefield."

"I'll be fine. I just need rest. But how are you, Unohana-san? It looks like you fell asleep where you were sitting."

She shook her head, pressing him back lightly onto the thin pallet. "I apologize for that, Ukitake-san. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable. Please, let me heal you now."

"I wasn't uncomfortable, I was worried about you."

Her hands lit with diagnostic kidō. When she brought them to his chest he could see her trembling.

"You're shaking. How long have you been on the front? When did you last rest?" He touched one of her hands and the kidō extinguished immediately.

"I'm fine. I will heal you, take another energy pill, and return to do triage on the front." She folded her hands into her lap. He could see deep, heavy shadows under her eyes, and her face was pale and drawn.

"Unohana-san, when did you last rest?" The battle had begun on this front four days ago.

"I will rest when the battle is done." She met his eyes, holding his gaze easily. Her steely determination shown through the serene expression she wore most of the time.

"The enemy has retreated. There's downtime now, so please take some rest. You obviously need it." He sat up.

She pressed his shoulder, attempting to get him to lie down again. "There is no downtime for the support units. This time when new wounded soldiers aren't being brought in is critical. We must heal as many of our powerful fighters as we can, so that we can overwhelm the enemy when they strike again."

He resisted her push. "I understand that. But there are many other healers working now, aren't there? Ones that have been brought in because of the enemy retreat, ones that are fresh. You can rest for a little while and go back out when you're revived."

"Those other healers are not me," she said simply. There was no arrogance in her words or manner—it was an acknowledgement of fact. There were no healers in Soul Society right now as skilled and strong as Retsu Unohana.

He nodded once. "But if you are here, that means that there is no one that they need able to return to the battle more than me." He hoped his voice lacked arrogance the same way hers had. It was the truth—if Kyōraku had been injured, she would be working on him; if Yamamoto-sensei had been injured, she would be working on him. But she was here, and that meant that Jūshirō was the highest priority among the injured.

She nodded once. "Yamamoto-dono instructed me to secure your return to the field."

"So you can rest, and then heal me, and we will return to the front together, both in better shape than we are now," he said, and smiled.

Her eyes flashed. "There are many patients for me to tend, many new healers for me to direct—"

"They will still be there in a few hours, and you will be better able to do those things after you've rested." He gestured to the empty pallet beside him. "Please, Unohana-san."

She narrowed her eyes at him, and when she spoke it was with a deliberate coldness. "Do you imagine that you know my abilities and my job better than I do, Ukitake-san?"

"No. I don't imagine anything like that. I don't know you nearly as well as I'd like. But what I do know is what it is to be frustrated by the limitations of my body. You're at your limit, Unohana-san. I know what it looks like, because I've seen it so many times in myself."

Her brows drew together and then her expression cleared, her serenity slipping over her face, slightly ragged. "When Yamamoto-dono completes his reorganization of the shinigami, there will be thirteen Captains."

"Yes, I know." He tilted his head a little. Did she want one of the positions? It was very likely she would get one.

"There are several candidates for each position. Do you know how many female candidates there are?" she asked, one brow raised.

"No." He assumed there were a fair number, though—there were many competent and powerful women in the shinigami ranks.

"One. I am the only woman being considered for a position." She folded her hands into her lap.

He blinked. "I didn't realize, I just assumed—"

"You assumed there would be equivalence among the candidates. You are wrong about that. Even though you are a candidate for one of the Captain positions, you didn't research your competition?" Her expression was difficult to read in the faint light.

"If I deserve a position, I'll receive one. I don't consider it a competition. I'm sure Yamamoto-sensei will choose the best people for the jobs."

She smiled faintly. "You don't consider it a competition. Unfortunately, you are very wrong. This is very much a competition. All of the candidates are competing at this moment, in this war. Your position as Yamamoto-dono's favorite may insulate you from this situation, but that is the reality. You and Kyōraku-san may be assured of your positions in the new Gotei 13, but I am not. The other candidates are not. We must show our worth here. I must show my worth as a healer, instead of as a warrior."

He bowed his head. He had been arrogant without realizing it. He'd seen the rivalries and the machinations among his peers, but hadn't connected it with the Captain positions in the new Gotei 13. Jūshirō had assumed he would gain whatever position he was suited for without any deliberate action. He still believed that, but perhaps it wasn't the same for everyone. "I'm sorry. I should have seen that."

Her eyes softened, some of that cold dignity leaving her face. "No. You were focused on what was important. You focused on battle, and trusted that Yamamoto-dono would make the right choices. I have been working to my limits, it's true, not only for the sake my patients, but for the position as Captain of the new healing division."

"You'll get the leadership of the healing division, Unohana-san. There's no one else as qualified as you, and regardless of what you think of Yamamoto-sensei, I promise you that he will not be swayed by any temporary show put on by other candidates. You are the best healer that we have, and you are an excellent leader of troops. There's no one else that deserves the position more." He put his hand over hers, as bold as he'd been that first day in the hospital, when she'd knocked his heart over with her beautiful eyes.

She glanced down at his hand on hers. He felt very self-conscious, but didn't remove it. "Somehow you make me feel ashamed. My training says victory at any price, but I don't believe that is the most ethical choice. I've tried to leave that training behind," she said.

He startled. "What? Why would you say that you feel ashamed?"

"I have been thinking of my patients, but not only my current ones. I've been thinking of how much more I could do with command of my own division, how I could train my subordinates, how important it was that I be given one of the Captain positions. But you have simply trusted that the outcome of the selection process would be fair, and that you would receive whatever you deserve. If you didn't receive a position, I doubt you would have raised a fuss about it."

He swallowed. "Unohana-san—"

"Your motivations are pure. You are—cleaner than the rest of us, who considered our own advancement even in this time of war." She shook her head. "Please forgive me for speaking this way, I'm very tired."

"You don't have anything to be ashamed of, Unohana-san. You've done your best for your patients in this war. Wanting to have a position that allows you to do more in the future isn't wrong. Kyōraku's thought about it, too. If I haven't, it's not necessarily that my motivations are purer. It's that I have limited resources to spend on things. I have to focus on what's in front of me now, because my health doesn't allow for much else. How can I plan for a future when I don't know if I'll have one?"

Her hand turned up on her lap, clasping his hand firmly. "You can plan for the future, Ukitake-san. You must, especially if you aren't sure that you'll have one. That's when it matters the most. But you will have a future. Your condition can be managed, and we will manage it." Steel ribbon ran through her voice.

She was beautiful in her determination, and that he was the subject of her intensity was aweing to him. "When you say it like that, it makes me want to plan for the future."

Her lips parted. They were paler pink than usual, but still full and lush. She had a sensual mouth, one that he'd imagined kissing more times than he'd admit to, even to himself. Unohana didn't speak, just watched him with her dark eyes brilliant in the dim light.

If she knew what he'd thought, what he felt, it didn't show. "Will you rest?" he asked. Her health was important, not only to him, but to her patients, to all of the shinigami.

She inclined her head slightly, releasing his hand and moving to the pallet beside him. "Briefly. In an hour I'll get up and heal you, and then we'll return to the front together."

"Two hours, please. To be honest, I need the sleep," he said, self-deprecation in his voice.

"Very well." She waited until he'd settled onto his back on the pallet, watching his breathing. "Your condition will hold for a few hours. You are suffering from exhaustion, as you'd suspected."

He smiled wryly. "I know my limits. I don't always stay inside them, but I know what they are."

"I understand that well myself." She lay down on the small pallet next to him on her side. They were very close—he could feel the warmth of her body next to him. "Ukitake-san?"

He turned his head to her. "Yes?"

She hesitated. "Do you remember that day in the hospital, the first time I tended to you?"

"Vividly." He smiled.

"When I told you that you'd be an excellent leader, I meant it. It's still the truth now. That's why I've never doubted that you'd obtain a Captain position, even with the state of your health." Her face was half in shadow. The air between them felt heavy with possibility, the way that it had in the hospital. He felt a leap in his heart that had nothing to do with his condition.

"I've never forgotten that. It was amazing that Unohana-sempai would say something like that to me."

"Sempai," she murmured, weighing the word.

"If you'd like me to use another honorific, I will." He nearly didn't speak, but he wasn't a boy now, he was a man. "If you'd like me to use your name, I will."

Her eyes gleamed in the light, and he felt as if he'd leaped from a high mountain and survived. "When we are alone, you may use my name. Retsu," she said carefully.

"Thank you. Of course you can use my name any time that you want, Retsu-san. Jūshirō," he said with his smile wide on his face.

"When we are alone, I will call you Jūshirō-san." His name had a delicate musicality in her voice. He loved the sound and wanted to hear it every day.

His hand lifted to her face, stroking the fine skin of her cheek. He started to shift, to reach for her, and she stopped him with a hand on his chest.

"You might aggravate your condition," she said gently.

He was disappointed to miss the chance to kiss her again, but nodded. "Thank you for thinking of me, Retsu-san."

She rose to her knees and bent over him, her hands on the pallet on either side of his head. "It's best for you to stay where you are," she whispered. She leaned down, keeping her weight off him.

"Retsu-san." He raised his hands to touch her back, her shoulders, her neck. That this woman, so elegant and beautiful, would allow him to touch her—it was incredible to him.

She kissed him, her lips soft and wet on his lips. He wrapped his arms around her, trying to bring her down against him, but she resisted. She did part her lips for him, allowing him to taste her, and that was more than enough. Retsu's flavor was tea, the bittersweet chocolate of the energy pills, and summer. That was the only name he could give it—she was sunlight and warmth and everything summer—his favorite season. When she broke the kiss he nearly expected to see fireflies flitting around them.

"You need to rest." She pulled away from him, gently breaking his embrace. "Stay on your back."

"Yes, Retsu-san." He let her go easily, confident that he'd be kissing her again soon. She'd felt the same spark when they'd kissed that he had, he was certain. It showed in the unexpected tenderness of her eyes and the lingering look she gave his lips. "We'll rest together." He reached for her hand.

She accepted his hold, allowing her hand to be swallowed up in his much larger one. "Only when we're alone," she said.

But they weren't alone for a long time after that. The war dragged on. Even when the forces of Hueco Mundo were obviously outnumbered, they still managed to find new techniques to take on shinigami armies with forces three times their number.

Finally the war did end, and life was slowly restored to normal. Yamamoto made his appointments to the new Gotei 13, and as Jūshirō had expected, Unohana earned her place as the head of the healing division. Kyōraku also earned a Captain's position, as did Jūshirō.

They were waiting just inside the open door of the First Division for the official ceremony that would induct the new Gotei 13 leaders when Jūshirō turned to Kyōraku.

"I don't like this white robe, it's so plain. It looks too serious," Kyōraku said.

"It is serious. It's a representation of your position as a Captain." Jūshirō paced the hallway.

"What's with you? You're so jittery." Kyōraku was sitting against the wall, not even bothering to stand while they waited.

It'd been months since Jūshirō had seen Retsu in a situation that wasn't directly related to the war. She appeared in the courtyard, her walk so smooth she seemed to float across the cobblestones towards him. His heart throbbed painfully in his chest. "I'm in love with her," he blurted out.

"Eh?" Kyōraku roused himself enough to glance out the door at Retsu. "With sempai? I knew that already."

"I didn't," he snapped.

"Stop pacing like that. You don't want to look too eager or nervous, do you?"

Jūshirō stopped and stood up straight, smiling genially as Retsu entered.

"Good afternoon, Captain Ukitake, Captain Kyōraku," she said, sweeping past them into the meeting room.

His heart dropped.

Kyōraku stood. "Don't look like that, or everyone will think you're having an attack of your condition when we go in."

"Why? She didn't even look at me, why?" Jūshirō stared at the door of the meeting room.

Kyōraku sighed. "You had an intimate moment together during wartime. You're in love with her. But she may not be in love with you."

Jūshirō swallowed heavily.

Kyōraku dropped his hand on his shoulder, squeezing encouragingly. "Yet. She's not in love with you yet."

Jūshirō stood up straight. "You're right. I can get a woman to fall in love with me. Can't I?"

"Lots of women think themselves in love with you. You're charming and handsome and a bit sickly, so you'd need them. Women like to be needed." Kyōraku shrugged.

Jūshirō shot him an annoyed look. "I want to be her lover, not her patient."

"Then you need to show yourself to her in other contexts, so that she'll see you as someone that she wants to be her lover, and not as a frequent guest at the third floor of the hospital," Kyōraku said.

"I can do that." His brows drew together, a strong determination rising in his heart.

* * *

Jūshirō brought her flowers at the Fourth Division. Retsu met him in the hallway, casting a cool eye over the flowers. She took them from him, cutting off his greeting by turning to a nurse. "Captain Ukitake was kind enough to gift flowers to our Division. Please give them a place of prominence on the front desk," Retsu said.

She turned on her heel and went into an examination room, Jūshirō following behind. "The flowers were for you, Retsu-san."

Annoyance flashed over her face and she suppressed it immediately. "This is my workplace. Gestures like that are inappropriate. Please don't do it again."

"If I brought flowers to you at your home, would that be all right?"

"Please don't, Captain Ukitake." She placed a careful emphasis on his title.

"Why? I thought there was a connection between us. Didn't you feel something like that when we were in the war, when we kissed?" He reached for her hand.

"Yes." She permitted his hold, studying their hands. "You were lucky to be taught by Yamamoto-dono."

"What?" He was surprised by the jump in topic.

"He was not my teacher. I did not come to this position via the Academy, and I have had to do some—difficult things to get here. I will not jeopardize what I've achieved." She removed her hand from his, very gently.

"I have been lucky. And I'm sorry if you've had hard experiences on the path to your Captain's chair. But I don't understand why you and I can't be together if we both want it. Yamamoto-sensei would make an exception to the fraternization regulations for us."

"I do not want him to make any exceptions to the rules for me. I will accept and follow the rules as they are, even when it's difficult." Her face was resolute and serene.

"One exception to the rules wouldn't undermine your authority or jeopardize your position—"

"Stop," she interrupted. "You cannot fathom what it took for me to become who I am now. You don't really know me."

"Then tell me and I'll try to understand. I want to know you, Retsu-san." Jūshirō stepped toward her, as resolute as she was.

She hesitated before shaking her head. "No. Thank you for your interest in me, Captain Ukitake, but I must decline any sort of personal relationship between us. I have to be alone. What happened in the war was a mistake. Please accept my apologies for my behavior then."

He swallowed, his disappointment metallic in his mouth. "Please don't apologize for that. Your kiss was one of the best moments of my life." He smiled even though it was painful. "I apologize if I've made you uncomfortable, Captain Unohana. Please forgive me for that. I respect your wishes, and I'll go now."

He turned to the door.

"Thank you," she said. He glanced back and the resigned sadness of her eyes almost pulled him back to her. But he respected her wishes, and so he left, nodding to her.

But it was difficult to let it go completely. He thought of her often, and one afternoon a week later he was thinking of her while drinking tea at his home with Kyōraku.

"You're so gloomy," Kyōraku said.

Jūshirō shot a look of annoyance at Kyōraku, not that his friend saw it. Kyōraku was sprawled out on the wood of Ugendō's porch, a hat over his face. "I can be gloomy in my own house."

"If you'd give her up so easily, you deserve to be gloomy." Kyōraku felt for his sake cup, slipping it under his hat to drink.

"Who do you think I am? I'm not going to pursue a woman who told me in very clear terms that she's not interested."

Kyōraku lifted his hat to look at Ukitake. "You went to her workplace. That wasn't the best choice, given that she's probably quite conscious of being the only woman at the Captain rank."

"Maybe, but she was very clear about not wanting to see me at all." Jūshirō was miserably certain of that.

"You need to talk to her away from the division."

"Her quarters are on the Fourth Division grounds," Jūshirō said.

"Yes." Kyōraku propped himself up on one elbow. "But I have it on good authority that she goes climbing in the mountains frequently on her days off to gather medicinal herbs. She always goes alone."

"Alone?" Jūshirō considered that. "Who is your good authority?"

"The redheaded Fourteenth Seat of the Fourth. I bought her a drink last night." Kyōraku grinned.

"Chasing women of a lower rank could be seen as a misuse of the power of your position."

Kyōraku endeavored to look wounded. "It was all for your sake, Ukitake. I spent hours hearing far more about unpleasant medical procedures than I ever wanted to know. I like to listen to women's voices, but my ears were ringing and I felt a little sick when I finally got that information about Unohana-sempai and could leave gracefully."

"So it was like all your experiences with women, then."

Kyōraku flopped back down on the porch, covering his face with his hat. "I'm so unappreciated."

"Especially by women."

Kyōraku sighed, bringing his sake cup under his hat again.

Jūshirō watched the fish swimming lazily in the water around his home. "Do you really think I should go to the mountains to meet Unohana-san again? I don't want to make her feel like I'm following her or harassing her."

"That woman can handle herself, Ukitake. If you're making a pest of yourself, she will let you know it." He tipped the hat up to pin Jūshirō with a sharp gaze. "You're in love with her. That's the kind of thing women want to hear directly from a man's lips, the kind of thing that changes their opinions of a person sometimes."

"So I'll go to the mountains," Jūshirō said, his brows drawn together.

"Go to the mountains and shout of your love from the highest peak." Kyōraku's voice had a dreamy quality.

"The air's too thin up there. I doubt I could manage a shout. I think I'll go and tell her in the ordinary way instead."

"Nobody appreciates grand gestures anymore. It's very sad," Kyōraku murmured.

Jūshirō ignored his friend. "I'll need to find out her schedule."

"Tomorrow."

"What?"

"She's off tomorrow. Did you think I wouldn't get all the relevant information, Ukitake? I also know the next duty rotation for all the seated officers of the Fourth. The redhead was quite a talker."

"Tomorrow? That's so soon."

"Are you backing out already? After all that I endured for your sake." Kyōraku pouted.

"Drinking too much and making regrettable decisions about women can hardly be blamed on me, since it's your weekend routine." Jūshirō pressed his lips together. "Tomorrow. What do I need to go into the mountains?"

"Some sweet plum wine and a blanket to make love on," Kyōraku said.

"Your optimism is greater than mine." Jūshirō found it more likely that Retsu would reject him again, more firmly and coldly than before.

"A man has to be optimistic about love." That dreamy tone was back in Kyōraku's voice.

"I'll try. Optimism might make it easier to make a complete fool of myself in front of her, again."

"Doubtful," Kyōraku said, yawning loudly.

"Thanks so much." Jūshirō contemplated kicking Kyōraku into the water for half a second, but his friend had tried to help him. "Thank you," he said again, meaning it this time.

"Sure, Ukitake, any time."

The trek to the mountains the next day wasn't as bad as Jūshirō had feared, but he still found himself short of breath when he found Retsu. He raised his hand in greeting and started to call out, but his throat failed and he leaned his hands on his knees, gasping.

"Captain Ukitake? What are you doing out here?" She hurried over to him, her forehead wrinkled.

"I wanted—to see you," he said, his breathing interrupting him.

She led him into a sunlit meadow. "The mountains are a poor place for you, given your condition. At least you brought a blanket. Are you chilled now?" She wrapped him in the blanket and pressed him down into sitting.

"I'm fine," he said, unwilling to admit he'd brought the blanket on Kyōraku's advice and not for his health.

She studied him critically for long minutes. "Your pulse is fine and your breathing has recovered. I think you overexerted yourself on the hike up here."

"Yes, you're right, Unohana-san." He took the blanket off his shoulders.

She sat on her heels in the meadow with her hair tied up, her face serene. She wore no special clothing in concession to the mountain. Her cheeks were rosy and her skin warmed by the sun. She was utterly beautiful, and his heart sank lower.

Why had he imagined a woman like her would want a sickly man as her lover? He could not join her on her hikes; he'd only slow her down. "I'm sorry, Unohana-san, I don't want to disrupt your leisure time." He smiled genially, pushing on the ground to rise.

She grasped his hand as he stood. "Why?" she asked.

He swallowed. "What?"

"Why did you come here?"

"I wanted to see you. I thought if we were really alone, you might—things might be like they were before." He stared at the wildflowers in the field. Blue and small, Kyōraku would know what they were.

Her hand tightened on his, and he looked down at her in surprise. Conflicted emotions ran through her eyes. "We can talk." She rose, releasing his hand to spread the blanket out and sit on it neatly.

He sat across from her. "I have some food and wine, if you'd like." He'd come to declare his love, but how should he do that? Kyōraku would have said it in a flamboyant, excessive gesture, perhaps with hundreds of flowers and a banner. But Jūshirō was not that kind of man.

"All right."

They made small talk about work and ordinary things while eating and drinking, Jūshirō relaxing slowly.

"Did you come out here to picnic with me?" Retsu asked, tipping her head to the side slightly.

"No—that is—yes, but not really—it's just—" he stopped, drawing a deep breath of the thin air. "I'm in love with you."

She set down her wine cup with care. "Can you really say something like that? Do you know me well enough to mean it?"

"It's true that I don't know you as much as I would like. I'm sure there are hundreds of things about you that I don't know. But I love you, not for any individual thing that I know about you, but for who you are as the sum of all of those things. I don't think there's anything I could discover that would change the way I feel." Jūshirō met her eyes steadily, his heartbeat uneven under his skin.

She looked down at her hands in her lap. "You should understand that I can't give you everything that you'll want."

"Retsu-san." He reached his hand out, tentatively taking one of hers. "If there's a chance that you have any warm feelings for me, and that you would want to spend any of your time with me, that's much more than I could have ever hoped for already."

She lifted her eyes to his, her brows furrowed. "If that's the truth, then I can offer you some things. Jūshirō-san," she murmured, shifting closer to him. Her lips touched his in a gentle kiss.

He brought his hands up, embracing her. This was more than he'd ever expected, more than he'd thought he could have. She fell back with him onto the blanket softly, and his senses were flooded with her, his thoughts and emotions filled with Retsu.

* * *

The third time Jūshirō woke up in bed with Retsu Unohana was the night after their time in the mountains. It was a cold, pre-dawn hour, and she was putting on her clothes quietly. "Will you stay, Retsu-san? I'll make you breakfast. I have some pomegranates and some sweet melon—"

"No, thank you." She finished dressing and returned to the bed, kissing him fleetingly. "I would prefer to keep our relationship private."

"Of course, I understand. Perhaps another time."

She nodded and went to the door. "I'll see you tonight, if you'd like. I can come here again."

"Yes, please, Retsu-san. I'd like that very much."

She came to him often at his home, declining to have him in her quarters. But that was understandable; her quarters were on her division grounds, and maintaining a professional appearance was important to her. It was enough that she came to him at night, many times eating with him before bathing with him, making love with him and sleeping with him.

But she always left before dawn.

He could understand that, she wanted to keep up appearances. She didn't want everyone to know that they were lovers. He was sure she'd soften over time and that she'd relax into their relationship. He encouraged her to leave things at his home, clothes and toiletries, which she declined politely. He bought her a toothbrush for his bathroom, and she did accept that one tiny thing. She used his toothpaste and his soap. She cooked his food and brought liquor and wine as if he was her host and not her lover.

He was certain she would change eventually.

Jūshirō invited her for lunch, for dinner, but she refused every invitation that would have had them together in public as a couple. When he was hospitalized, as he was often, she was courteous and professional, giving him all of the respect his position warranted and none of the love he wanted.

A hundred days passed, then a year, and a hundred years. He was lucky, so lucky to have Retsu at all, to have the attention and affection of such an exquisite woman.

But she never said she loved him.

The years passed in the same pattern for centuries more. He wasn't unhappy, precisely, because he had Retsu; but he was discontent that he could not have more with her.

Jūshirō sat on his porch, staring at the fish swimming in his pond. They were fatter now than they'd been last year. He wondered if the food or the weather was the cause.

Kyōraku flashed into view, whistling, a jug of sake clutched in his hand. "Good afternoon, Ukitake! Are you feeling better today?"

"Yes," he said without feeling.

Kyōraku sat down, pulling out two sake cups. "Do you want some?"

"No, thank you." Jūshirō studied his friend with interest. Kyōraku was nearly vibrating with excitement. "What's with you today?"

"Today is Tuesday. But it's not an ordinary Tuesday, because Nanao-chan has put something special in the schedule for me today." Kyōraku grinned.

"What's that?" Ukitake asked, a bit dubious that he wanted the answer. Kyōraku's relationship with his Vice Captain had become quite intimate of late.

"Costumes. But not just any costume, that cute little nurse's uniform I had made based on the pattern at the Fourth." Kyōraku leaned back against a post, looking dreamy. "Nanao-chan in a nurse's uniform—"

"She put that in your schedule?" Ukitake considered that. "Doesn't that ruin the spontaneity for you? Isn't love supposed to be in the moment, according to your definition?"

Kyōraku waved that off. "Nanao-chan is a woman that likes to plan for things. And I can work with that, because if I say something like, 'Nanao-chan, I got you this nurse's outfit, will you wear it for me?' she will think about it and put it in the schedule if she's willing to do it. That doesn't mean there isn't any spontaneity—of course there is, because I'm still me—but relationships are about compromise, so we schedule special things."

"Relationships are about compromise," Ukitake echoed. He'd compromised, accepted the conditions of never having Retsu stay the night, never being out with her in public, never presenting themselves openly as a couple.

"Are you sure you're all right, Ukitake?" Kyōraku asked.

"Can I ask you something personal about your relationship with Ise-san?"

Kyōraku nodded. "Of course, just between us."

"Does she stay over? When she comes to your house to be with you, does she stay the whole night?" Jūshirō looked away, embarrassed that he'd asked, but he wanted to know. Nanao Ise was a woman well-known for being orderly, disciplined, and upstanding. Surely she was more rigid about these things that Retsu.

"Sure, she stays over. It took a little persuasion, but I made a space for her in my closet, and then I bought extras of her favorite soaps and things, and now she stays over unless she has an early meeting. On the weekends we have breakfast in bed, and sometimes lunch and dinner." Kyōraku poured himself a drink.

"She spends days at your house?" Jūshirō asked, incredulous.

"Well, it makes more sense than us spending them in her quarters. They're really too small for us, she gets very aggravated with me when we're there." Kyōraku shrugged.

"Ise-san leaves clothes and things at your house?"

"Yes, a few changes of uniform, a few yukatas, some books and things. But Nanao-chan isn't the kind of woman you can move into your house slowly. At some point I'll just have to ask her to come and live there," Kyōraku said.

"You think she'll move into your house?" Jūshirō couldn't believe that the respectable Nanao Ise would move in with Kyōraku.

"Maybe. Maybe she'll have some expectations that she needs met first. We'll negotiate." Kyōraku tipped his hat back. "What's this about, anyway, Ukitake? You're not usually this interested in my relationships."

"I'm happy for you, that things are going so well for you with Ise-san. I confess I didn't really think that she would be so willing to have a relationship with you." Jūshirō smiled faintly.

"It only took decades of persuasion and courtship." Kyōraku grinned.

That was a short time by Jūshirō's measure. "The thing is, for all these years, with Retsu-san, she won't stay over, won't eat with me at a restaurant, and won't leave things at my house. I love her, but things never change. I thought they would, and hearing about you and Ise-san, I feel a little jealous." He scratched his head, embarrassed.

"Have you told her that you feel this way?" Kyōraku asked, suddenly serious.

"A thousand times I've told her that I'd like more, or asked her to stay, or invited her out with me. She always declines. She does it gently, but she always declines. I don't know what to do anymore. I love her. I've always loved her, but I want more." He slouched on his cushion.

"Ukitake, you've been in a relationship with Retsu-san for nearly your entire adult life. At this point, if you have needs that aren't being met, you have to consider the possibility that this relationship may never meet those needs for you." Kyōraku sighed.

Jūshirō felt like his heart would stop. "No, I can't leave her."

"I didn't tell you to do that."

"But that's where it leads. I give her an ultimatum, she refuses to meet it, and our relationship ends. No, that's not something I can accept, even if I never have more from her."

"Then you'll continue to compromise what you need forever, to stay with Retsu-san. That's fine if it's what you want." Kyōraku drank from his cup.

"I don't know." Jūshirō watched the fish sparkling in the sunlight.

"All right. We can talk more about this later, if you want. I have to go now. I'm meeting Nanao-chan at the noodle shop." Kyōraku rose.

A wince ran across Jūshirō's face. "Have a good time."

"It's just dinner, Ukitake." Kyōraku's tone was gentle.

"It's what it means. You're both willing to be seen together, as a couple, in public."

"If Nanao-chan and I didn't eat dinner together at the noodle shop, people would still know we're a couple. You can't imagine that you and Retsu-san have been hiding your relationship for all these years? Everybody knows. You're the only ones that don't acknowledge your relationship openly." Kyōraku studied him with consternation and concern in his eyes.

"That only makes it worse, thanks."

Kyōraku sighed. "How about this thought, then? It took me all this time to find a woman like Nanao-chan. You've had Retsu-san for all these years, and that is something. It takes dedication to continue a relationship for that long, even one as limited and restricted as yours. There's a lot of feeling there."

"Yes. That is something." He could hold onto that. Jūshirō would just need to try harder to show Retsu that times had changed, and a relationship like theirs was nothing out of the ordinary.

It wasn't easy. Retsu resisted his efforts with a gentleness that made her rejections sting more, somehow. Jūshirō spent five years trying to persuade Retsu to eat dinner with him at the noodle shop.

She finally agreed to lunch on a workday, staring at him while they ate.

"Why does this mean so much to you?" she asked, taking a bite of udon. Her expression was serene, but he could read the exasperation in her voice, underneath her calm. He knew her so well now.

"This is something normal that people do together. Friends, colleagues, and lovers, too. I think that you and I should be able to do things like this. There's no reason for us to avoid being seen together in public."

"I would prefer to keep our relationship private." The faintest crease appeared between her brows.

"But it's not private. Everyone in Seireitei knows that we're lovers. Whether we eat ramen together or not doesn't change that. So I would like us to do these things, these normal things." Jūshirō swallowed, worried.

"I can't do these things," she said finally. "I like our relationship as it is. I told you a very long time ago that I couldn't give you everything, and you agreed to that."

"A thousand years ago. I imagined something might have changed in that time. Isn't it natural, to want more time with the person you love? I'm not asking for big steps. Just, can we eat together once a week at a real restaurant? Can I make you breakfast on a weekend sometime? We can make a schedule if that would make you more comfortable," he added in desperation.

She sighed. "I don't think you know how much you're asking. The time we spend together is already so many hours."

"Does it take something from you, spending time with me? I find my time with you restores my strength and happiness." Jūshirō frowned.

"That's because you're so open, so honest. It's different—difficult—for me, with you." She would not meet his eyes.

"If you feel there are things you have to keep from me, please don't. Whatever it is, it won't change how I feel about you." He reached for her hand on the table and she snatched hers back.

"You say that very easily, but you don't know that it's true. You're so good, so clean. I don't want the way you look at me to change. That is selfish, perhaps. But isn't it also selfish for you to demand more and more of me? You say it's just a meal, just sleeping over, but will your desire really stop there? You already have more of me than anyone else has ever had or will ever have. Can't that be enough?" Her voice was measured and forceful.

He closed his eyes, rubbing his temples. "Retsu, it's not my intention to take more from you. I want to give you more of myself. I love you. I don't mind if everyone knows that. I'm sorry if I've upset you with my requests. I'm so lucky to have you. It's almost beyond my imagination." He smiled, a little self-depreciating.

She looked away, staring at a poster hanging on the wall. "I will try," she said, quietly but with great effort, as if she'd moved a mountain to find those small words.

He smiled, relieved. "Thank you, Retsu. I'm so glad."

She smiled at him, but her smile didn't reflect his relief or happiness.

Nothing changed. Years went by as they had always done, with Jūshirō seeking more time with Retsu and Retsu carefully maintaining the set boundaries of their relationship.

On a warm spring day he watched his friend Kyōraku marry Nanao Ise, the slender woman blushing prettily as they posed for pictures. There were rules about these kinds of things, but in the end, what did rules matter to Kyōraku? He'd exempted himself from those rules with an easy side-step and no one had tried to stop him.

Jūshirō's envy was a bitter and jagged stone in his throat. He was happy for Kyōraku, genuinely, deeply happy, but never in his life had he imagined that his laid-back, skirt-chasing friend would be married before him.

Jūshirō was steady, solid, the kind of man women were supposed to marry. Kyōraku was those things, underneath, but on the surface he was changeable, whimsical, and overly romantic. That the dependable and reasonable Nanao Ise would choose to marry Kyōraku was baffling to much of Seireitei, if Jūshirō judged by the conversations at the reception party, but nobody would turn down an opportunity for free drinks and dancing.

No one was more conscious of his good fortune than Kyōraku. His friend danced with his bride, fed her choice bites of the food, and made the rounds of the tables with his hand possessively at her back.

"Congratulations," Jūshirō said, clapping Kyōraku on the back.

Kyōraku grinned, as widely and honestly as Jūshirō had ever seen. His eyes were on Nanao as she chatted with a few matrons of the Kyōraku family. "Thanks, Ukitake."

"I can't believe you managed it."

"Me neither." He leaned in, as if to tell a secret. "She told me that it was a mistake, the first time we were together. But I'm going to be the best mistake Nanao-chan has ever made." He laughed merrily.

"I'm happy for you." Jūshirō smiled.

Kyōraku turned him with a hand on his shoulder, so that he could see the table where Retsu sat with some of the members from the Shinigami Women's Association. "You know, weddings make women sentimental."

"Is that so?" Retsu was beautiful with her hair caught up in an elaborate bun, her kimono pale blue and patterned with delicate landscapes.

"Especially unmarried women. It's the romance of the moment and probably the easy flow of alcohol." Kyōraku chuckled. "You can try, Ukitake."

He nodded. "I can try." Jūshirō strode to the table. "Good evening, ladies."

Hinamori and Kiyone giggled, having evidently sampled some of the free alcohol.

"Good evening, Captain Ukitake," Retsu said, showing none of the easy cheer of alcohol.

"I was wondering if I might tempt one of you to dance," he said, smiling at Retsu.

"Do you have candy?" Yachiru asked, her pink hair falling out of the style someone had tried to put it in.

"A few mints—" he said, and she walked with him to the dance floor, to his consternation. Yachiru had not yet developed any restraint on her sweet tooth, but she was still a child, really.

He danced with Yachiru, and then returned to the table, hoping to dance with Retsu, but found himself directed by her into dancing with every member of the SWA, including a rather surprised Nanao.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself, Captain Ukitake," Nanao said, polite curiosity in her voice.

Her curiosity was appropriate, given that he'd danced with at least five women. He smiled ruefully. "I was really just hoping to enjoy one dance in particular, although I am very lucky to have the opportunity to dance with so many lovely women of the SWA."

Nanao tilted her head slightly. "I see. I can manage that for you."

His brows went up. "What?"

She smiled. "Leave it to me," she said, and left him alone on the dance floor.

He blinked, confused, but Nanao returned in a few moments with Retsu by her side.

"Thank you so much, Retsu-san," Nanao said, nodding to Jūshirō and hurrying away to a door.

"What? Where is she going?" he asked.

"We're dancing," Retsu said, her lips turned up. "Nanao-san had some urgent personal matters to attend to, but didn't want to leave you without a partner."

He took her hand, leading her smoothly into the dance. "If you'd rather not, I understand, but I would very much like to dance with you."

"I know. You danced with all of the SWA members already. And Nanao-san is the bride, so her opinion should matter on her wedding day. We'll dance." She smiled, understated and beautiful.

His envy melted under the rush of love he felt for her. It was wonderful to be here, at his oldest friend's wedding, dancing with Retsu. It didn't matter that several preliminary dances had been involved. All that mattered was that he was with her now. "You look wonderful, Retsu."

"Thank you."

"Have you ever imagined something like this for yourself?" he asked. It might not be a subject that she'd like to explore, but it was at least relevant to the situation.

She raised an eyebrow. "A wedding and a party? No."

Her answer was so decisive he came up short. "No? I thought that this was something all little girls think about."

She smiled without warmth. Something like sadness cooled her eyes. "I think that very much depends on where the little girls come from. I'm certain your sisters have thought about their weddings often. I never thought about mine."

"I'm sorry for that. Children should be free to dream about whatever future they can imagine. What kind of place did you come from, Retsu?" She wouldn't answer; he knew that before he asked.

"I'd rather speak of happier things now."

"Of course. Have you ever thought about your wedding as an adult?" he asked.

"No." She squeezed his hand, as if to soften that response. "I am still not from a place where I can think about things like that."

"I've thought about it," he said, and knew his eyes were naked with his longing.

"Let's just enjoy this moment together. I'll meet you at your house later, after I manage to get out of this kimono."

He swallowed his disappointment. "I'm looking forward to it."

Her lips curved up. "You really should," she said, her voice dripping with dark promise.

She delivered on her innuendo later in a way that left Jūshirō breathless on his back in bed. He was still recovering when she rose to find her clothes. "Please stay a little longer, Retsu. It's still early."

"I anticipate that we'll have a lot of alcohol-related cases seeking treatment tomorrow. I should be available at the division in case there's anything serious tonight." She dipped down to the bed, brushing his hair away from his face and kissing him.

"You have your phone. You could safely stay for a few hours more. I'm sure that your officers would call if anything important came up." He stroked the curve of her shoulder and arm.

"I would prefer to be there." She patted his hand and removed it from her skin. But she hesitated, looking at the moon out of the window.

He sat up, pressing kisses to the curve of her neck. Her skin was salty from their lovemaking and smelled faintly of the roses of her soap. "I love you," he murmured against her skin.

She never responded to his declarations openly, and she didn't now. Her hand knotted in his hair, pulling him closer. "A little while," she whispered.

His happiness flowed through his veins, his heart, his whole body. He held her close when they made love, when her heart beat fast against his and she breathed sweet cries into his ear, when she collapsed on him, spent and sighing, and when he curled himself around her body as they lay on their sides. "You're everything, everything. Marry me," he whispered against her hair, thoughtless, floating on his happiness.

She froze beside him, her body stiffening, withdrawing from him. "Don't."

"No, wait—I'm sorry, I was just—I was happy. Come back, please, Retsu—" He reached for her as she fled the bed, dressing quickly.

"Good night," she said, leaving abruptly.

He fell back against the pillows, running his hand over his face. "Idiot."

Retsu didn't return for days. After a week he sent flowers to the hospital, addressed to the Fourth Division—a thank you for their excellent care. She'd know his meaning.

She didn't come.

He sent her a letter, full of sincere and raw apology and emotion. It was a risk, sending it to her quarters by private courier. She might be displeased by the means, but surely the sentiment would reach her.

She didn't come.

Jūshirō wasn't sure what to do, how to apologize for something he hadn't meant to say, but had genuinely meant. He went to Kyōraku's house after dinner one night when two full weeks had passed without her. Nanao opened the door, and he felt foolish—what was he doing, barging in on newlyweds? "I'm sorry, Ise-san, ah, Kyōraku-san, I didn't mean to intrude. Please excuse me."

"Come in, Captain Ukitake. You may call me Nanao. It would be less confusing for you. Shunsui is inside." She opened the door for him to enter.

"Thank you, Nanao-san, but I should really go—"

"Ukitake, come in already, will you?" Kyōraku called from inside.

Jūshirō hurried in, following Nanao to the main room of the house, where many cushions were scattered around and Kyōraku lounged with a sake cup in his hand, music playing low in the background. "Do you want a drink, Ukitake?"

"Would you like tea, Captain Ukitake?" Nanao asked at nearly the same moment.

"Please don't go to any trouble, Nanao-san, I'm fine." He scratched his head.

"I'll make tea." She left the room.

Jūshirō sat on one of the fat cushions. "I'm sorry, I should have called first."

"Why? It's fine for you to come over, Ukitake. Nanao-chan knew we spent a lot of time together when she married me, it's not like it's a surprise to see you here." Kyōraku grinned.

"Thanks," he said, relieved.

"What is it? You look so sad." Kyōraku sat up.

"I asked Retsu-san to marry me."

"What happened?" It was too obvious it hadn't gone well.

"She left me, and she hasn't returned. I sent flowers, to the whole division, of course, and a letter to her, apologizing, but she hasn't come back." Jūshirō slumped on his cushion, miserable.

"And you can't simply go to see her?"

"You know that I can't. She would be very displeased if I did that."

Kyōraku shrugged. "She's already very displeased with you, isn't she? Could it really get worse?"

"I don't know. I was just happy, from the wedding and from her and I wanted that with her. I should have been more careful. Retsu-san has always been very clear about her boundaries. What if she doesn't come back to me?"

Nanao entered with a tray, setting it carefully on the low table between Kyōraku and Jūshirō. "There's hot tea and pork buns for you." She hesitated.

Kyōraku laid a hand on her calf. "What is it?"

"It's not really my place, but—" she stopped.

"Tell him, whatever it is, if you think he should know." Kyōraku rubbed a soothing pattern on her leg through the fabric of her robe. It was a pale pink with violet and blue flowers—obviously something Kyōraku had picked out for her.

"Captain Ukitake, Retsu-san always speaks of you with the utmost respect and affection. That's not changed in recent weeks," Nanao said.

"'Utmost respect and affection' is Nanao-chan's code for love, Ukitake." Kyōraku smiled up at her. "That's what you say about me to your friends, isn't it, Nanao-chan?"

"The pork buns are fresh," she said, picking up a book off the table and stepping out of the room.

Kyōraku picked up a pork bun. "Fresh pork buns. That's Nanao-chan's code for love, too." He took a large bite.

"Nanao-san thinks Retsu-san loves me?" Jūshirō asked, frowning.

"Yes, it would appear so. To be fair, many people believe that about Retsu-san." Kyōraku gave him a sharp look.

"I can see how it might look like that from the outside, but her actions don't support that theory."

"No?" Kyōraku sighed. "Let me ask you something, Ukitake."

"Go ahead."

"Do you know why I married Nanao-chan?" Kyōraku sipped from his sake cup.

"I assumed it was because you love her."

"No." When Jūshirō opened his mouth, Kyōraku waved him off. "I do love her, of course. I've loved before without reaching this level of commitment."

"Then was it because she loves you?" Jūshirō frowned.

"No, though it is very satisfying to love and be loved." He smiled, lifting the pork bun to his mouth.

"Why, then?"

"She asked me once what my inner world was like, where my zanpakutō resides. I told her a little about it. She leaned closer and said, 'Tell me everything.' No one had ever heard me speak of my inner world without flinching. Even you flinched, although we were still boys then, really."

"I'm sorry for that—but at that time, that was the only reaction I could have."

"I understand. And I don't blame you for that. Sometimes I horrify myself. I've tried, from time to time, to tell the people I've loved who I am all the way through, but they were repulsed. Nanao-chan wasn't. She came closer. She wanted to know me, even the darkest parts, and when she did, she still came closer." Kyōraku smiled. "That's why I married her."

"Because she put aside your darkness?" Jūshirō drank the tea.

"No. She accepted it, along with every other part of me. I wanted to have that, always. I knew that she honored her promises, so I asked her to marry me. I wanted her bound to me."

"Do you think I've held something back from Retsu-san?" Jūshirō asked. He didn't believe he had; he'd told her and shown her his feelings in as many ways as a man could while respecting her request for secrecy.

"I don't. You're an open kind of man with your friends and with your loved ones. But ask yourself, what do you know about Retsu-san's inner world? What do you know about her bankai? Have you ever seen her on the battlefield and shivered, just a little?"

"I—you're saying I don't know her as well as I think I do."

"I'm saying that Retsu-san has a deep darkness in her, and she has withheld it from you all this time. Maybe she thought that if you were any closer, she wouldn't be able to hide it. I can understand her actions," Kyōraku said.

"I love her."

"You don't know all of her." Kyōraku poured more sake into his cup.

"It doesn't matter what dark places there are in her soul. It won't change my feelings for her."

"Neither of you will know if that's true until you actually find out who she is all the way through. You're a bright and honorable kind of man, Ukitake, and it can be hard to imagine you embracing twilight and cold things, even when they're a part of people that you love." Kyōraku shrugged.

"I flinched when I was a boy. I wouldn't flinch now." His eyes narrowed.

Kyōraku only smiled. "I think you're right. But the only thing to do now is to find out."

* * *

Jūshirō went to Retsu in the mountains.

It was nearly like the first time, with him panting over his knees and Retsu scolding him. "Jūshirō ? Are you all right?" Retsu asked, leading him to a spot in the sun. She had him rest in a meadow much like the one where he'd confessed his love all those years ago.

"Retsu," he said, too breathless to say anything else. He lay on his back, gathering his strength for several minutes.

"Why did you come out here? You know this could be dangerous for your health. You can't be reckless with yourself, Jūshirō." She sat on her heels on the blanket, clearly annoyed.

"I missed you," he said, extending his hand to touch her cheek.

She sighed. "My absence was not intended to drive you to these lengths."

"I know. But I didn't want to leave things as they were." He pushed himself up on his elbows, trying to rise.

"Stop. Rest there for a little while." She pressed him back down, leaning over him. He reached up for her, pulling her down on him. "Jūshirō—" Her voice was full of longing and resistance.

"I love you, Retsu," he murmured, kissing her ear, her cheek, her jaw.

She turned her face until he could kiss her lips.

"Retsu." Time slipped away, the sun overhead the only witness to their lovemaking.

She came down from the mountains with him, bringing him back to his house. He was tired from hiking the mountains and relieved to be with her again. "You should sleep," she said, leading him into his bedroom.

"Stay for a little while, please."

She nodded once and he smiled. Maybe things would be better this time, different this time.

Jūshirō eased into dozing with his arm around Retsu's waist.

She slipped out of his arms when he was nearly asleep. "Retsu."

She paused at the edge of the bed. "Go back to sleep, Jūshirō. I'll come by tomorrow, if you'd like."

"Yes, I would like that, but I wanted to talk to you now." He sat up, wrapping his arms around her from behind. "I want to ask you something."

"What is it?" she asked, tensing.

"I know that there are things that you don't tell me. I accept that, because a person should be allowed their privacy and their secrets. I respect that. But for a long time I've felt that you've been keeping us apart because of those secrets that you don't want to tell me. Retsu, whatever those things are, however dark your secrets may be, I want you to know that you can trust me with them."

Her hands closed on his wrists around her waist. "It would change us, it would change you. Jūshirō, I don't think you understand how much I want you to always look at me with the same clear eyes, filled with warmth. You would never look at me that way again if I told you. I can't. I'm sorry."

"I love you. Nothing will change the way that I feel about you, the way that I look at you. I won't flinch, Retsu."

Her hands tugged his arms away from her body, slowly, gently. "You're very kind, very good. I am not. I am something else entirely. The young woman at the hospital that you fell in love with—she exists, but she's not the whole truth." She pulled away from him, standing, shaking her head. He was stunned to see her eyes glimmering with tears.

"Retsu?"

"I cannot, will not go to that place again. I will never bring you there. This is an unbreakable line for me, Jūshirō. We won't speak of this again."

"Retsu, please, this is important." Jūshirō stood.

"Yes, it is. Promise me that you won't bring this up again." There was a hard edge in her voice.

"I feel that this is holding us back from being completely happy. So I do want to talk about it. What would it take for you to tell me your secrets? I'll give you whatever you need." He hugged her gently, stroking her back.

She took a shuddering breath and stepped back from him. "There is nothing you can do that would make me tell you those things, or that would compel me to bring you to those dark places. Forget about it, and forget that we ever had this conversation. Good night." Her face was composed when she looked up at him, her serene mask eerie with her burning eyes.

"Retsu, please stay. There's nothing that we can't work out together. I know it."

She flinched back from him and fled from his house without another word.

He sank to the floor, the weight of his failure pushing him down. "Retsu," he said to the empty room, and silence was the only response.

Retsu didn't return to him for weeks, but this time he sent no flowers, wrote no earnest letters. What had broken between them was not something he could repair with apologies or words of love. Retsu was the only one that could rebuild their connection, and she did not try.

He mistook his illness for sadness at first, because he was listless and miserable. Kyōraku and Nanao had him over in the evenings several days in a row, trying to lighten his mood with books and food and conversation. They didn't succeed, but he did appreciate that they cared enough to try.

One night after he'd returned from Kyōraku's he took a long bath and then went into his bedroom, preparing for sleep.

Suddenly everything stopped for one frozen moment.

His heart did not beat; his lungs would not pull air in. Then the world spun again, his lungs and heart squeezed by an excruciating pain, as if they were ripping out of his chest, torn to shreds. He fell to the floor, crawling for his phone.

He failed and fell into unconsciousness before he could call for help.

The fourth time Jūshirō Ukitake woke up in bed with Retsu Unohana he was in the hospital. He could hear the familiar sounds of the machines monitoring his condition, the erratic beeps telling him his heart was not well. His eyelids were heavy and he opened his eyes slowly. The light was low, but he could see Retsu's outline as she sat on the bed, her hand over his, her beautiful eyes staring blankly at the window.

He opened his mouth, trying to speak, but couldn't. She turned to him immediately. "Jūshirō? You're awake." She lifted a cup to his mouth, carefully fitting the straw to his lips.

He was stunned to see her eyes were red-rimmed and tired, as if she'd been crying. She never cried at work, and he could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen her tears in his life. "Retsu?"

"I wasn't expecting you to wake up yet. It's good that you have." She smiled, but there was a shine of desperation in it.

He thought that she'd never expected him to wake up again. "It feels different this time. When I fell—it was different—my heart stopped."

She shook her head. "It's not different. You'll be fine, this was just a more severe attack than you've had before. You'll be fine," she said again, as if to reassure herself as much as him.

He could feel the lie in his chest as well as he could hear it in her voice. "It's all right, Retsu. I'm sure you've done everything that anyone could do for me. Thank you. I'm happy to be here with you now."

"It's not over. You have to believe that you'll recover. As long as you have a will to live, there's hope." Her eyes closed and her breathing was even and careful.

He squeezed her hand, surprised by how much effort it took. "I'm sorry that we quarreled, and that I pushed you before. I love you, Retsu. I want you to remember that."

Tears did leak from her closed eyes now. When she spoke it was with great effort. "You never change, do you? Always so generous with your forgiveness, with your love. It's unbearable."

"I'm sorry, Retsu—"

"Stop," she hissed. Her eyes opened, a sharp and burning blue that speared his heart. "I'll tell you what you wanted to know, if you'll promise to stay. Promise me, and I'll tell you anything." She bent over his face, her tears falling hot on his cool skin. She was still careful, keeping her weight off of him.

He ached to comfort her. But he couldn't lie to her; he'd never been able to lie to her. "If it's within my power to stay with you, I'll never leave you. I promise, Retsu." It wasn't what she'd asked for but it was all he could offer.

She leaned down to kiss his dry lips, her tears salty and stinging in his eyes. He welcomed the sting, welcomed the heat of her kiss. He was alive and he was with Retsu. That was more than he could have ever hoped for.

Retsu pulled back from him, sitting up and brushing her tears away with ruthless efficiency. "I wish I could say that there is some avenue of treatment I haven't explored, some forbidden kidō left untried, but there's nothing like that left. Kyōraku-san gave me permission to look into all of the secret records years ago for you, but there was nothing there. I've done everything. That your life should be beyond my power to save—it's bitter." She shook her head, pressing her lips together.

"You've done everything. I'm so grateful to you, and to Kyōraku—I've had such a good life. I've been so lucky." He smiled.

She bowed her head. "Please stay a little longer, Jūshirō. I'll give you more. We can have dinner at the noodle shop. I'll stay over and bring my soaps. I'll tell you who I was before I was that young woman at the hospital. Please."

His heart would have broken for her if it wasn't already shredded and barely beating. "Retsu."

She clasped his hand in her lap, stroking his palm gently. "I'll tell you, from the beginning. My name wasn't always Retsu."

Jūshirō listened to her story, at times feeling the same horror he had when Kyōraku had told him of his inner world, but he was not a boy now, and he didn't flinch. He was a man, and he loved Retsu. No dark history or spilled blood would change that. His love for Retsu was the central pillar of his life.

He felt himself fading at times, and forced his focus to stay on her. When she'd finished he smiled. "Thank you for telling me."

She glanced up at him, hesitant. Whatever she saw in his gaze made her eyes widen, her lips parting. "You really meant what you said before, didn't you?"

"I love you, Retsu. Nothing will change that." His breath caught, his vision wobbling. He was glad he'd gotten to tell her that again, glad that she believed him now. He fell into the black, Retsu calling his name.

* * *

Dying was a strange sensation, a cool and easy fall, like sinking into the ocean. Jūshirō drifted in that dark ocean for an eternity. He could feel his swords with him, his zanpakutō's spirits shifting around him in slow circles. It was painless and slow, dying.

But he'd promised Retsu he'd stay.

The whisper of his swords drew his eye to a speck of land, a tiny island in the distance. He wanted to go there and forced his numb limbs to swim for the island. The ocean's waves rose, choppy, as if disturbed by his effort. Pain shot through his chest, as if rebuking his resistance. The ocean sang to him. He could just sink down and be embraced by the black, and all of the pain would end.

But he'd left Retsu alone.

He swam doggedly for the island, each breath a burst of pain. The ocean grew agitated, the water rising, strange enormous figures darkening the water beneath him. They would pull him down if he would not sink willingly. Fear dragged at him.

But Retsu and Kyōraku had done everything for him.

He didn't stop. He had people who loved him, needed him, and he wanted to be there. If he could only reach the island, he knew he could return to his life. An icy tentacle brushed his leg, but the island was looming close now, and he could see that it was actually the lush island where his zanpakutō's spirits lived.

He pressed on.

His swords helped him over that last distance, when the island was almost within reach. The pain rose to a brutal crescendo, the resistance of the ocean so high that each movement of his arms and legs was like swimming through daggers. His zanpakutō's spirits whispered soothing words, pushing him forward.

The sand was gritty in his mouth.

He laughed, a gasping and torn sound. He'd made it to the island. The ocean roared once before falling back into stillness. He lay on his back, spent and triumphant. Blackness danced around him again, but he was unafraid; this was the blackness of ordinary unconsciousness, which he'd felt many times.

The fifth time Jūshirō Ukitake woke up in bed with Retsu Unohana was at Ugendō, many years after the hospital and the ocean. The dawn was just breaking through the window. He'd had the dream again, the dream of death defeated. It didn't bother him, remembering that dark battle. Instead he felt a little taste of that triumph again and it made him smile.

He rolled to his side. Retsu lay on her side facing him, sleeping. A fat pillow was tucked under her belly, supporting the weight of her pregnancy. She was older now, her hair streaked lightly with gray, the lines around her eyes deeper. But she was beautiful, her skin still luminescent, her eyes still that stunning blue of a summer ocean.

_You can plan for the future,_ she'd told him once, and he'd taken her advice seriously. His fingers traced lightly over the roundness of her body. It was a wonder to him, this baby she carried, a surprise to both of them, and a wonder that she slept beside him in their house, with the bond of marriage between them.

What she could accept from him had changed after he'd accepted the full truth of her life with his love for her unchanged.

Her eyes fluttered open.

"Did I wake you?" he murmured.

She shook her head. "I'm lucky to have slept this long without waking. Pregnancy is challenging." She shifted awkwardly. "I'm thirsty."

"Do you want water? I'll get you some." He rose from bed.

"Melon juice, please."

He nodded and went to get her melon juice. She'd been drinking barrels of it lately. He was seriously concerned Seireitei might run out of the juice before the baby was born. He'd have to import it from the Living World at a fiendish markup then.

She'd moved to the porch, sitting heavily on a cushion and watching the sunrise. He sat behind her, handing her the juice. She drank it greedily and set the empty glass down with a sigh. He pulled her back against him, his hands cradling her belly.

Her hands covered his. "I don't want to go to work this early," she said.

"Stay a little while, Retsu." He kissed her temple.

"I'll stay."

**The End**


End file.
